Marked for Death
by MaiaLynn
Summary: Ly has no issue remembering her life. It's her death she's forgotten. And if the bloody snow and cold skeletons are any indication, it's something worth remembering. Now she must protect those already doomed, guide those who's life already has a set deadline. Ly Wolfchosen- guardian of martyrs. Contains some O.C.s Rated for safety, may get semi-sad. Recommendations welcome!


**Marked For Death**

Author's Note: Hi all! I know- I'm terrible. I have other stories, I never update, why am I starting a new one? But, well- this idea has been rattling around my head for forever! Well, at least a few months. Forgive me and just enjoy the story? *Puppy dog eyes* please? :)

**Chapter 1: Bloody Snow**

When Ly woke up, it was cold. That surprised her. Not the cold part, it was _always _cold this far North. No, it was the waking up that came as a surprise. She could have sworn she was dead. That was what the cold meant, right? That freezing wave radiating from inside her, that empty feeling like something-_her heartbeat? _was a tangible darkness running through her veins, filling her lungs until she couldn't breathe _dragging her away-_ _Idon'twanttogo!_ Perhaps though, Ly mused, it wasn't death. After all, the pain hadn't left, just been numbed by that blistering cold. And she hadn't seen any light, no halls of yore or heroes, no Valhalla. No Hel either, thank the gods! Maybe she'd just had a scare. Or a bad dream! Yes, that was it. She stood, shaking snow off her. Why was she sleeping outside? And when had it started snowing? The white fluff fell in flurries all around her, making it difficult to see as it caught in her lashes and threw itself in her face. The snow was a uniform white, except for the area where she had lain. There it had stained itself a deep crimson for several feet. From the coppery tang in the air, Ly could tell it was blood. Who was hurt? She felt fine- but hadn't she been in pain before entering the darkness? Or was that part of the dream too? There was no one else, _nothing_ else there. Where was she? Ly didn't recognize the terrain, and she knew most of the land surrounding her home. She had explored it with her sister, Ophrie. And had multiple adventures on it. The other vikings always teased that anything Ly did would turn into a fight for survival, and that was why Ly was such a great spear fighter. She'd always replied that if they wanted the same experience, they could just follow her around all day. Strangely, no one had taken her up on that offer. Turning around she found herself faced with a horrific scene. There had been a mountain pass, but a rockslide had filled it in. That wasn't the terrible part though. What made her catch her breath in disgust was the battlefield that lay before it. Corpses, tusked, hairy creatures with blue skin littered the ground. All were covered in snow and appeared to be frozen solid. Charred ash showed where fires had once been. The battle had taken place several months ago by the looks of it, but the cold conditions had preserved it just the way it had been when it was fresh. Ly counted over thirty fallen creatures, but couldn't tell who had been fighting whom. As she surveyed the scene, doing a quick once over for survivors, a sudden gust blew her short, sandy blond hair into her ice blue-grey eyes. Cursing, she wrestled it out of her face. You'd think that having it in a long boys cut would prevent this, but _no_. It was always getting in her face. Ly smoothed down her leather armor, checking for damage. There were no tears, no bloodstains, actually- if anything it was in better condition than she remembered. The leather straps weren't as worn, as stiff as when she first donned the armor. It was a molded piece, hard- like saddle leather. The chain-mail at the joints appeared to have been polished and mended expertly, and the greaves she strapped to her forearms and legs shone like new with none of the dings they had acquired. The metal guard that encompassed the entirety of her neck seemed to have lost the deep gash from that one ax blow a few years back. Wait- where was her spear? And her helm? Looking around, she spotted them in the snow. Her helm was a lattice of blackened metal with strips running down her cheeks and nose. However, it was her spear that was her pride and joy. As tall as she was, the bottom end was a wickedly sharp section of sharpened wood with a crosspiece a few inches above. Another crosspiece was situated a half-foot from the tip, a gleaming metal point fastened so securely it seemed to grow out of the sturdy wood. Lightweight (for her) and strong, this weapon had saved her and her loved ones' lives more times than she could count. It had no name, it didn't need one. it was a part of her, an extension of her soul. Naming it would be like naming her arm. Unnecessary and foolish. Ly never called her spear 'her' or 'him', never personified it. That would mean her and the spear were separate beings, two minds, two souls. You don't refer to one half of yourself as another person, so Ly never referred to her spear as a separate being. Ly knelt to lift the weapon, then turned to strode away. She needed to find her way home. Or, she would have strode away if her first step hadn't set her floating, as if she'd mounted a stair. What the Hel?! Last she checked she couldn't float. Maybe there was something to that death thing... Wait, wouldn't that make her a draggur? Like, evil, end the world and eat souls draggur? No. No way. She was NOT eating ANY souls. That was just disgusting. She needed answers, and she needed them NOW.

§o§

Answers apparently came in the form of a girl who claimed to have been sent by the moon and was Mother Nature. Which was weird because this kid looked younger than her. But claimed to be several centuries older. Ly's head hurt.

"Can we run through this again?" Ly asked. The girl sighed. She was slight, but much curvier than Ly who had always been more practical than vain. She was also very short, with pale skin that was tinted green, dark green hair and brown eyes. She called herself Emmy.

"Ok, look. The Man in the Moon decided that you lived/died in a way that made you deserve a second chance. Or reward, or job qualification or whatever. So, your new job is to guide martyrs who died saving people, you know- make things easier. Stuff like less casualties, painless deaths, the bad guy is killed before them, ect. You should just KNOW when a martyr is formed. After that, it's pretty much babysitting. Oh, and protecting them after death. Manny said that was important. Something about regret and despair and such trying to devour the souls of the deceased? Yea. Anyways, only martyrs will be able to see you. And you're immortal and stuff. I'm sure you can figure other stuff out on your own or MIM will tell you." Emmy said all this in the tone of someone explaining the obvious for the millionth time to someone who was incapable of seeing reason. It was rather insulting.

"Wait-" Ly started, and Emmy rolled her eyes again. Ly ignored this and plunged on. "If the Man in the Moon - which is weird by the way, who would live in the moon? - picked me, why are YOU explaining all this?" Emmy clapped, grinning sarcastically, "Finally, an intelligent question!" She sighed, serious now, "Honestly, MIM SHOULD be the one to explain this, but he's TERRIBLE at explanations. So I came so that we could avoid confusion."

"So you thought it was a good idea to pop out of a snowdrift, say 'Hi! I'm Mother Nature but you can call me Emmy and you're dead!'" Ly asked dryly. Emmy shrugged, unrepentant.

"You're a viking. I figured you'd get mad if I went for anything but a straight forward approach. Plus, I hate dancing around things." Ly shrugged, that was true enough.

"Wait-" Emmy sighed again as Ly found another question, "If only martyrs can see me, and YOU can see me, then wouldn't you be-"

"Yes." Emmy interrupted impatiently, "But that was a LONG time ago. Don't worry about it. Anyways, most spirits can see each other, but you're a bit of an exception. Even among spirits, only those within your sphere of influence will be able to see you. Unfortunately, that's not a lot. It's rather rare for a spirit to die before being chosen for it's job." Emmy shrugged at this, "you'll figure it out, I'm sure. There will be some exceptions, spirits you need to work with, ones with powers that enable them to bypass the martyr barrier, ones who's spheres of influence over lap yours." Ly just shook her head. This all was WAY too much. She was dead, immortal, and an invisible spirit. Not to mention there were OTHER spirits. Who couldn't see her. Was it possible that she had just gotten into the mead and was suffering a drunken nightmare? Unlikely, she hated mead... but it DID seem more probable than THIS. Emmy looked at her, almost in pity it seemed.

"I know this is surreal," the older spirit told her, "but it is true. You died. Look at this battle field. All these were your enemies. None of your friends' corpses lie here. You faced an army- look how many fell before you! A death worthy of any Valkery. A death worthy of a spirit. It might take a while for you to accept, but your death was worth it. This life is hard, but you have eternity to adjust. You'll make new friends and choose your own family. It will be ok." Her tone was comforting, understanding. Ly realized with a start that Emmy must have gone through a very similar experience. It really hit her then. She was dead. Her life was over at seventeen. She was supposed to get married in a month. She was supposed to go on her first southern raid soon after that. She would never interrogate her sister's boyfriend, never see her sister's wedding, or raise a family. Never meet her nieces and nephews or have grandchildren. She would never decorate her shield with mementoes of her victories- never turn eighteen! Her family would mourn her, her tribe would move on from her. She would fade from person to legend to memory to nothing. She would watch herself be forgotten. Emmy opened her arms and Ly clung to her and cried. Cried for the life she had only started and would never complete. This would be the last time Ly cried over her past. These were not just tears of mourning, but of acceptance. Ly was moving on, as surely as her people would. After all, she had an eternity to enjoy, but she needed a moment to let go of all her might-have-beens.


End file.
